Thanks Gerald, this is oddly appropriate where I am concerned……


Neville Goddard from “Immortal Man”

Question: In the scriptures, we are told that none will be lost but the son of perdition.
 Please tell us who the son of perdition is.

Answer: The son of perdition is the belief in loss. The only thing that can die or cease to exist in this world is that which has no right to live or exist. It’s not a man. I’ll tell you who it is.

Every moment of time you are feeding two beings of which you are totally
. Your every evil thought goes to feed one and your every loving
thought goes to feed the other. The day will come you will confront
them both at the same time.
 One is an angelic, beautiful creature.
 The other is the most monstrous thing you ever saw. . . it’s covered
all over with hair and has a gutteral, human voice.

When I looked at it, it was looking at this beautiful creation, this
angelic being, calling her , and I struck him. He gloated, for he
loved it. He feeds on violence.

 Then I realized this thing came out of me. I am its father.
 The angelic being came out of me, so I am her father.

Then I said to myself (for there was no one present but myself), "I will
redeem you if it takes me eternity," and that whole thing got smaller
and smaller, and in a matter of moments it was gone, and I felt a glow
of strength, and she began to glow like the .
 She feeds on my every lovely thought and he fed on my every ignoble

 He whispered in my ears my ignoble acts because he feeds on violence.
If He could cause me to do anything of which I would be ashamed, it
would fatten him. If he could only whisper in me to hit someone, that
would fatten him and strengthen him. That was mis­spent energy.

Every lovely, noble thought I have ever entertained feeds her.

 So I know from experi­ence that’s the only thing that dies and it’s
man’s creation.
(my ignoble acts, the most monstrous thing you ever saw)

 But man does not see it until a certain point in his unfoldment, when
he has the strength to face it. It’s his dweller on the thresh­old. It’s
ever with him. It never leaves him. It goes to bed with him and it
whispers into his ear the unlovely which it needs for its own
existence. But when you confront it, you well up with a compassion you
didn’t know you possessed. You pledge yourself, "I will redeem you if it
takes me eternity," and it melts before you, and its energy goes back
to you, for energy cannot be lost. Not one little drop of it, if you can
of it in drops. Nothing is lost. It all comes back.